The other day, as I was walking down the street, I came upon a woman and her male companion on the sidewalk. I don’t remember the man. But the woman — her, I remember.
She had dark sunglasses and, at noon on a Sunday, wore bright purple lipstick. The rest of her face was done up as well. She was clad in a skintight number with lots of shiny buttons and zippers and on her feet were spike heels that forced her to take itty-bitty baby steps. From behind the sunglasses, she glared at me. I could immediately tell she was Russian.
How did I come to that conclusion, you may ask? Well, for one thing, it’s well documented that the former U.S.S.R. makes up a large square in the ethnic patchwork of my neighborhood. But beyond that, having some exposure to Russians in America, I know that many of the women take their looks extremely seriously. The stereotype goes that a Russian woman will put on a full, meticulous face of makeup to go to the grocery store, or even to get the mail. There is a huge pride taken in appearance among these women, and I salute them for it. However, that mentality sits like oil and water with the average American — or really, Bostonian — woman, and her desire to wear sweatpants to the club.
It wasn’t like I was dressed in my pajamas that day, but I certainly wouldn’t have been let into the Taj Hotel, either. I was wearing a slightly-wrinkled sundress patterned with red flowers on top of muddy Doc Martens, and my hair was drying. Maybe it got lost in translation. Still, when the purple-lipped woman glared at me, I had the good sense to scowl back.
The whole exchange reminded me of a semi-recent political cartoon in which a woman in a bikini passes a woman in a burqa. Both remark on the cruel, repressive culture of the other, rendering an understanding upon the reader that both are equally oppressed, or something.
It’s true that, since dress is a visual thing, it’s usually the first difference we notice about those who come from other cultures and what they notice about us. A friend of mine told me he couldn’t get into any bar or club in London because he had the tragically American sensibility to wear “trainers,” or sneakers, instead of dress shoes. Poor him, right? Another ruined night.
Sometimes multiple nations get involved, and then it really becomes a quagmire. Remember the infamous hijab ban in France? I had a French professor defend his country’s position by claiming that we Americans were far too concerned with personal freedoms and not at all concerned with the “greater good.” You can imagine how we Americans took that.
With personal freedoms in mind, it occurs to me that certain divides in the way we think about clothing ourselves spring less often from collective ideology — ethnicity, religion and the like — and more from personal ideology, the myriad ways in which one human being can differ from another. These issues arise most often between friends and family.
Take parents and children, for instance. Did your mother ever tell you to march right upstairs and change because there’s no way she’s letting you leave the house in THAT? Were there times that you had no idea what she was talking about?
When I was growing up, my mom wouldn’t let me wear any clothing with a visible label or brand name. Little did she know, that was pretty much the only way you could be considered cool at my school. At the time, I was furious at her for depriving me of a means of blending in, something I no longer have much interest in doing.
We can’t escape the fact that our styles betray our personalities; it then stands to reason that our personalities, and thus our styles, naturally have to be objectionable to someone. As soon as you decide to assert yourself, you’ve no doubt immediately offended at least a dozen people.
The trick is to not look at anything in terms of “good” or “bad.” While that cartoon of the bikini and the burqa seems to suggest that both styles are wrong, perhaps it could just as easily be interpreted as saying that both are… right? Or neutral, or good enough?
I suggest we do what my French teacher found so odious, and enjoy our personal freedoms. While we’re at it, let’s all try to live and let live.
Black-and-white thinking never begets anything positive. Besides, it’ll bleed in the wash.
